


After All

by Lady_Rubik



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Hurt Peter Parker, Isolation, Loss of Control, Loss of Powers, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker has PTSD, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Power Outage, Precious Peter Parker, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Self Confidence Issues, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Lives, Triggers, Yeah Sorry I Had To Keep Him Alive For This
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Rubik/pseuds/Lady_Rubik
Summary: He couldn't stick to the walls. He couldn't tell when Aunt May was just outside his door. He still had a bruise from yesterday's fall - a fall that bruised his knee! And he wasn't as hungry as before. Everything was...normal.No, no, no, no, this couldn't be happening. Peter couldn't be losing his own powers. He couldn't lose being Spiderman. And he couldn't let anyone know.  Peter was going to drive himself mad trying to find out what was wrong with him.After Endgame, everything was supposed to get better, but it only gets worse.
Relationships: Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to my sad playlist and I really love angst stories and this idea just kind of popped into my head. Here's an intro of my story "After All". Hope you guys enjoy! Trigger Warnings now for later down the story chapters that there will be triggering, dark themes. 
> 
> Please excuse if there are any errors. I wrote this at 2 am.

_ “We won, Mister Stark.” _

There were 14,000,605 futures. And this was the one. 

_ Peter gripped the gauntlet close to his chest. The stones radiated heat and power, something that distracted him for a quick second. Take it to the nice Captain Marvel lady, he reminds himself. Stick to the plan.  _

This was the one. And they won. 

_ “We won.” _

Mr. Stark snapped. No,  _ Tony  _ snapped. 

And Peter watched helplessly from the sidelines. Pepper had bent down to be in front of her husband, someone who sacrificed his everything for the whole universe.

Peter should’ve snapped. He could’ve taken it. Sure the force of all six Infinity Stones would’ve taken its toll but with his super healing he could’ve been out in no time! He’s sure of it. And yet he’s feeling immensely guilty. Peter participated in Tony’s near death, his mentor and the man who helped him better himself. 

But now said man was in a hospital bed, teetering on the edge of death. It would be a miracle for him to even get into a stabilized coma.

_ “Can’t I go back there, Captain Sir? Please, Tony is like family to me!” _

_ “I’m sorry, Peter, but they’re only allowing immediate family back for now.” _

Right. Immediate family. That meant Pepper and their daughter whenever Tony was in a better shape for her young eyes. And even that is bitter on Peter’s heart. In the five years he was gone, Tony had a family. He was...replaced. 

That shouldn’t be his main concern at all, in fact, he should be happy for Tony! Except he’s not.

The teen laid on his bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. This was a spare room May had that really was her office but she cleared it out just for him. After the Snap, May had survived but had to move unfortunately. She didn’t voice it but Peter knew it was a money issue. He understood, but most of his things were gone or moved to a separate storage and there was no point to clutter May’s new apartment. He was clutter. 

“Hey, baby,” May greets from the open door with a soft knock. Peter knew she was there from her shuffling heard before she entered. He doesn’t have to look to the side to see the frayed woman with her lips etched in a near permanent frown. “How are you feeling in here?”

Dreary. “I’m fine.” Anxious. “Just thinking.” About what I could’ve done. “About...stuff.”

May leans against the doorframe, pulling her cardigan tighter around her body and looking down at the ground. “There’s...food on the stove. Happy, he uh..brought some chicken and dumpling for us.” She offers, giving her best attempt at a smile.

And one quick look at her sends Peter’s guilt up in flames. He did this to her. May had mourned him once and to see him right here and alive, it must kill her. She was probably already beginning to move on and yet he had messed everything up. If the ring on her finger meant anything to go by. But Peter is happy for her. He is. 

“Yeah, right, I’ll be in.” Peter says, but doesn’t turn his head to look at her. He couldn’t see the bags under her eyes and the red tint in the corners from her recent crying. She tried to look happy, Peter knew it, but she didn’t succeed very well. Not like he’d let her know that. 

_ “And the kid?” _

_ “His aunt is on his way. Pepper said that Happy Hogan is bringing her.” _

_ “...Are we sure he needs to be released? Kid hasn’t moved or spoken since…” _

_ “It’s the best we can do for him, Sam. A hospital won’t be any good, and this close to Tony and unable to see him won’t do any good either. We’ll just...monitor him when he can. Let him know when we can.”  _

Peter blinks, seeing the bleak, grey ceiling meet his gaze. May was gone from the door, and Peter sighs, smelling the waft of the food hitting his senses. A growl from his stomach echoes but Peter can’t find himself to sit up and go get food. 

But he should. 

_ “So let’s say due to your metabolism, you have to eat crazy amounts of food every day, right?” _

_ “Uhh...yeah, I would say so.” _ _  
  
_

_ “Okay, and because you have to eat more, it takes less to starve, right?” _

_ “I guess? I mean it really depends on the exact day-” _

_ “Nope. I don’t wanna hear it. We’re going out for food.” _

_ “Mr. Stark-” _

_ “Next time you come into my lab, almost pass out because you’ve only eaten a measly granola bar, and nearly give me a heart attack, I’m going to take suit rights. Kid, I’m serious. Pepper will kill me, Rhodey would kill me, and so would your smoking aunt. Especially. Actually not a bad way to go.” _

Peter gives a mix of a sob and a chuckle. God, he could’ve called Tony a hypocrite that day. The man notorious for energy shakes and bars and then only sleeping three hours out of four days maybe five if not caught? 

His limbs feel sluggish when he sits up, slinging his legs over the bed and pushing up onto his weak knees. Even though his healing took care of most of his battle wounds, they were still there. Inside and out. He’s felt nothing for the past three days ever since Thanos. Five years. It’s been five years since he died. 

“...not doing any better. If anything, he’s...not the Peter I once knew.”

Peter pauses right outside of his door. This apartment was definitely smaller, and the kitchen was right down the hall. He could hear his Aunt May speaking to someone, about him, and it further sinks his heart. 

“That’s to be expected. Being dead five years and fighting a Mad Titan could do that to anyone.” It’s Happy. Not surprisingly enough. Peter didn’t want to face Happy at all.

_ “Glad to have you back, kid.” _

_ Peter looks up at Happy’s gaze in the rearview mirror. His Aunt is in the front, leaning her head on one hand and keeping her breathing even. Her eyes were puffy, a telltale sign she had been crying and it further breaks his heart.  _

_ Peter can’t bring himself to speak, memories of the events flashing in his mind over and over. He can’t find himself to process words at all.  _

_ “Peter?” _

_ The mentioned boy looks back at Happy’s concerned gaze. He didn’t need that: pity. He was fine. At Happy calling his name twice, even May looks up towards her nephew to make sure that he was alright. Guilt floods in Peter. He couldn’t even bring himself to respond, so instead he nods with a small smile and brings a thumbs up.  _

_ It’s not enough, but the bare minimum they’re willing to take as Happy and May exchange a look before facing the road once more. Not another word is spoken and Peter has to hold back the tears once more.  _

“I just...I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to-”

“May, give him time to heal. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.” 

Their voices become hushed, but Peter doesn’t want to strain to hear. The boy backs up to his bed and sinks back into it, sliding under the covers this time. And he couldn’t even go out as Spiderman. Someone had taken his suit and May wouldn’t tell him who. They wouldn’t tell him how Tony was doing, they wouldn’t let him be Spiderman! He just wanted to stop feeling tired - useless. 

Except he couldn’t force himself to sleep. The nightmares were too strong. He tossed and turned just for an ounce of sleep just to be placed back onto Titan feeling his body fight against the inevitable. The only sleep he got was from his body eventually shutting itself down for the little rest he could get.

May didn’t know. If she did, then she’d be even more upset. Peter couldn’t do that to her. 

He wasn’t hungry.

Sometime later, he is awoken from the black void of light sleep to hear approaching footsteps. He doesn’t react, but deduces it was Happy as his footsteps were always a bit heavier than May’s. There’s a sigh, before the door creaks with movement and the footsteps turn away. 

But now Peter is wide awake. Awake to another night of demons and regret. 

The next morning comes within a blur. It’s spent with Peter staring up at the ceiling like usual before getting up at five am. His usual routine. He got up before May at least to do some things around the apartment such as clean up. It’s the only thing he can force himself to do. 

The boy forces himself out of the bed, feeling his body ache from the lack of sleep. Automatically, he moves from the room and into the guest bathroom where the reflection reveals his pale skin and heavy bags under his eyes. Nothing has changed since the battle, except for his black eye is now replaced with the bags. 

If only Tony could see him now. What was this? Day four? The nights went like minutes and the days went on like years. 

Peter stretches before washing his face and applying some light foundation to his eyes. Thankfully, it kept the illusion up and May was too preoccupied with other things to recognize or deeply look. 

When he’s finished making something somewhat decent out of himself, Peter moves to the kitchen. It’s clean with only a couple of silverware in the sink. Maybe he could make something for May and force himself to eat something as well. What was the last thing he ate anyways? Two days ago when May brought him some Italian - but he could only eat so much before he got sick. May’s face is engraved into his brain after that night. 

Peter reaches for the fridge door, feeling his head become light and the room tilt dangerously. He should try and eat something asap before he regretted it later. Do it for Mr. Stark. 

But Mr. Stark could be dead. 

No one is telling him anything. The heroes said they’d be in touch. No one has reached out to him. No one. 

No one, no one, no one-

Peter is brought back to the ringing in his ears as his hand hovers over the fridge handle. Huh, he thought he grabbed that. 

Everything is moving in slow motion for him as he opens it and peeks down inside. There were a few things he could make, but there’s...and there’s…

_ “We won, Mr. Stark.” _

_ “They’re only allowing immediate family back for now.” _

_ “I’m so sorry, Peter.” _

Dark stars blot at Peter’s vision before it all goes dark and the floor comes closer with record speed. 

The cold tile of the floor is what he’s woken up to. Peter has to lay there for a few seconds to recover from what he calls his “blackouts”, before sitting up with a bit more energy and alertness than before. Looking around the kitchen, he can see the sunrise streaming in through the window and the electronic clock showed the number 6:49. May would be up soon. 

Peter turns around to the open fridge. “Shit!” He hisses and rushes to close it to preserve at least some of the cold air. And he’s messed it up again. Sighing in frustration, he bangs his head against the fridge door. Thankfully, the pain blossoms through his head, grounding him enough to stand up straight and head for the drawers. 

Grabbing a pen and a sticky note, he scribbles down a quick note. “Going to the roof, won’t be long. Laurb you. - P” With that, he sticks it to the fridge and heads for the office- his room. The window easily unlocked to the fire exit and the roof was his favorite place to hang. It gave him an easy view of the skyline - a place he used to swing across free of all troubles. 

New York was beginning to wake up - not that it ever slept anyways - but the activity began to pick up as the sun moved up higher in the sky. He wondered if Tony would experience the sunrise, wondering if he was still breathing. 

It wasn’t unfair how he was shielded from the truth. It wasn’t doing him any good and he wasn’t “healing”. By god, this was the most unfair thing ever. 

Peter steps onto the roof of the complex, adjusting his shirt and moving over to the AC unit. It was large enough for him to be situated on, and while the metal was cold, the warmth of the rising sun was enough to keep his sense from going crazy as if they weren’t going crazy already. 

The blue sky was without a cloud and as the sun began to creep up, Peter found himself...relaxing a bit. Away from everyone and the cramped apartment in a dreary place. He didn’t know how long he’s been out, but the sunlight made him feel better. The comfort and warmth and quietness eased him. Time seemed to slip away as he watched the sky, felt the warmth of the sun and zoned out. 

“Peter! Breakfast!” comes May’s call from down below, breaking Peter’s concentration. It reminds him that indeed he had to come back down to earth. Another day, same routine. He should really try something new. 

The teen moves from his spot, climbing back down using the wall and his spider scaling - the back of the apartment faced an abandoned building. He hopes into the room, dusting off his shirt and closing the window before walking back into the kitchen. 

8:34. Wow, did time move fast. 

Except there’s eggs, oatmeal and sausage for him. Something he should’ve cooked for May had he not blacked out and chickened away. May sits herself at the small table with her own plate and cup of coffee just as Peter moves to sit opposite of her, offering a smile. 

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, kiddo. It still baffles me how you can get up early and still look that energized.” May jokes, a little lighter than last night. Peter’s smile turns a bit more genuine then he turns down to the food without another word. 

Comfortable silence settles over the two as they eat in silence. Peter is forcing himself to eat the food slowly and force the nausea down. So far he’s doing good for not having eaten in a while, and he tries not to gulf it all down to avoid getting full too early. 

“So, Peter,” May starts, picking up her own mug and sipping from it before turning to Peter with a hopeful smile played out across her lips. A new twinkle of mirth shined in her eyes, something Peter hadn’t seen in a while which makes him fearful for her next sentence. “I talked to Happy last night-”

“-I can see Mr. Stark now?” Peter rushes, heart beating with anticipation and hope. The assumption causes May to pause before she ashamedly looks down, immediately dashing Peter’s hopes. 

“Can I...can I at least know how he’s doing?” 

“He..I don’t have any updates.”

It’s a lie. He knows it’s a lie because Happy is close to Tony and May is close to Happy. They’d lie for his sake. Anger rises in him, threatening to spill over in the form of an outburst but Peter keeps it down like bitter vomit, ducking his head and forcing more eggs down his throat instead. 

“I uh..” May looks around the apartment, as if sensing her nephew’s growing frustration before clearing her throat. “Wow, this place is so small. Don’t you think? Man I should upgrade or something.” She chuckles in an attempt for a joke, but it falls flat terribly. “We think you should get out. Y’know? Spread your wings, go explore, get out of this dreary place.”

“Where would I go?” Peter asks. May wasn’t kicking him out, except she was. That hurts more than ever. 

“Well, Pepper would be more than happy to…”

_ “We won, Mr. Stark.” _

_ “Immediate family.” _

_ “You’re my responsibility, Peter. You’re my intern.” _

Loud ringing takes over May’s words. Peter can see her mouth moving but he can hear, staring at attempting to make it out. He can’t see Pepper. He knows what this is. If he can’t see Tony, then they’ve all decided that Pepper would desensitize him. 

“...and I’m sure Morgan would love to meet you.” 

Peter blinks slowly, looking back at May who seems eager and nervous for his reaction. “Morgan?” He asks, dumbly, as if he hadn’t heard that correctly. 

“Yep! A sweet, sassy little girl. She’s every inch of her parents, I’ll tell you that. You’ll adore her, I promise, Pete. This will be good for you! A new start.” 

Peter has to keep the bitter reply down. No, he doesn’t want to meet Tony’s daughter, who got every bit of her father’s love. No, he didn’t want to see the person who got the honor to be the biological child of Tony Stark himself. He didn’t want to. 

“Actually I was...planning to find Ned today, y’know.” Peter attempts to divert the conversation. Because like hell he was getting in a car with Happy to go see Pepper. Besides, he wanted to check on his friends and how they were doing. Did they get snapped too?

May’s face loses a bit of its light, and she ducks her head a bit. “Peter, baby, Ned...Ned moved.” 

At hearing that, something in Peter feels like it snaps and it hurts. The ringing is back, but May is watching for his reaction and he can’t let it show. “Oh,” Peter eventually says. He can hardly hear himself, hand gripping the bottom of the table edge dangerously tight. “Did- he moved on?” 

“Towards the...the beginning’s aftermath, he moved. Like away.”

“Ah, well, I’ll just- contact him.” 

But then Peter remembers that he didn’t have a phone. Shit. He couldn’t just contact him, and Ned probably changed his number after all these years. There was no way to find out where he was unless he truly looked. 

“I’m fine, Aunt May, I swear I’m fine.” Peter rushes to say. May doesn’t change her expression, watching Pete with a careful gaze. It irks Peter, but he knows an outburst isn’t right nor would it help his case. “I just…” Wish things went differently. 

May blinks, before pressing her lips together. “You just what?” 

“No, no, I just...just scared of seeing Pepper, yknow?” He finishes, and while it hurts him to say it, the relief on May’s face is enough to satisfy him...only for a bit. 

“Oh, Peter, trust me, she wants to see you. Happy and I talked about what all you could do while waiting for-” 

And yet she’s tuned out again as Peter has to force himself to focus. He ate too much, and it’s threatening to come back up. “But first, could I at least run some errands? And not...not today, I just wanna reacquaint myself with Queens once more.”

May pauses, but she must’ve figured it made sense as she shrugs and offers a nod. “Alright then. I can give you some money for you to just walk around and stuff. Is that alright?”

Peter feels as if he spoke enough, simply nodding as May stands and takes both their plates from the table. She places a kiss on top of Peter’s head before walking over to the sink and leaving Peter to think. 

He could have a system. Get a cheap phone possibly. Try and find Ned’s new number. Make…

Peter blanks out once more, feeling everything around him dull to only him and the chair beneath him. He can’t see and hear past the ringing, before it all returns slowly and he hears the running water of the sink. 

But he was fine. Besides the blackouts, the “whiteouts” was just his system refreshing, at least he hoped. Peter was fine. He had to be. 

_ We won, Mr. Stark.  _

_ Tony. _

  
  
  
  



	2. So Therefore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter understands nothing right now. He's drowning all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is late. Sue me. Sobs. 
> 
> I have no explanation other than no motivation and school. But...here she is! Enjoy this steaming pile of love! Warning, there are some descriptions of some stuff so kind of tread lightly okay kiddies? Much thanks.

There’s a fine line between insanity and peace of mind. And yet the road is far stretched out. 

He doesn’t know where he heard that, but it’s true.

Peter Parker sits on a random bench in Central Park. He actually did walk from Queens to Central Park, which was a good couple hours but it was a nice distraction. There weren’t many people around, surprisingly, and his senses weren’t overwhelmed or even close to it. He’s sort of at a peaceful crossroad where everything was slowed down for just a second, and yet he can see the storm ahead of him...waiting. It’s just his Parker luck right down the corner. 

The teen currently was writing in one of the spare journals May gave him, noting down all the things that he needed to do. Get a new, but cheap phone, find out where his suit is, find out about Tony, and find Ned. There was a lot of “finding” involved, but everything had been scrambled since the final battle against Thanos. Peter thought he wouldn’t see that purple, wrinkled grape ever again. But in his dreams, there he was.

Standing off tall and proud in the battle field, gauntlet ready and poised to snap again. Or right there, over Tony with a smug look as his mentor looked down to where he was impaled in shock. Sometimes, Peter closes his eyes and sees the countless murders in the Titan’s gaze, the feeling being placed on him like he was possessed. 

He shouldn’t be thinking about his nightmares. They were the reason he couldn’t sleep anymore, the reason he has random periods of blackouts that he can’t control. Spiderman,  _ Peter Parker _ , losing control of his own body. What if he were swinging and blanked out? It was dangerous, he knew that. Could that be the reason that the adults hid the suit from him? 

But they didn’t know about the nightmares, so it could be a precaution. Peter tries to reason with himself that they were only looking out for him but it only works halfway before the doubts and regrets begin to cloud his mind. Why hadn’t he just snapped himself? 

A bird chipping above breaks Peter out of his thoughts as he looks up at the trees. Right, a clear mind is what he wanted. A clear conscience and peace of mind is what he wanted. No,  _ needed.  _

Everything went to pure hell after the battle. Rushing Tony to the hospital and Peter thinking he’s lost another father figure. Not being able to follow immediately after especially crushed him, it felt like...like he didn’t matter. Peter was just another mentor obsessed protege. 

It hurts. 

Looking back down at his notebook, Peter thinks about which objective on his list would be easier to achieve. Probably finding a cheap phone, but prices may have risen ever since half of Earth came back. And Peter definitely wasn’t asking May for a phone - he’d be crazy to. After only supporting herself for five years? And knowing May, she would throw herself into work just for Peter. It’s why he didn’t ask for anything he knew she would kill herself to provide for. 

And hell would be raised if he  _ ever  _ had to ask the Starks. 

And wow, there’s the Stark family. Husband, wife and daughter. Pepper and Tony got married and Peter wasn’t even there for the wedding. He was  _ dead,  _ and everyone moved on. That’s what he wanted them to do...right? 

The bird continues its song, a bit louder this time, but Peter tries to ignore it. Except the chirping is getting too much, and the heat is itching on his skin, scratching and clawing in attempts to tear him open. Peter shouldn’t have come out, he knew he was susceptible to this. He’s overthinking himself and now he’s escalating in alarm.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic. 

_ “ _ There’s a fine line between insanity and peace of mind. _ ” _

_ Peter looks up from his notebook, glancing over to where May was folding clothes in the living room. Her focus is on the small TV but her hands move over the clothing like it was nothing.  _

_ “Care to elaborate, Dr. Aaron?” The woman sitting next to him asks.  _

_ “Well, it’s common knowledge that it may take a “lot” to drive someone mad but does it really? Think of it like a fort of some sorts. We have our defenses, our guard, our fallbacks; they sit idly and when the enemy crosses the line is when we begin to defend. Attack. Everything we’ve ever known to be true will be questioned and everything will begin to suffer from the consequences of battle. It doesn’t take much to drive a person to insanity as they wear out from this mental battle.” _

_ Peter sits up slightly, switching from the TV to his aunt. “What are you watching, May?” _

_ May looks back at Peter at the table before looking back at the TV. “An interview with a doctor who recently published a book detailing a new view about mental health. It’s pretty interesting so far.”  _

_ However, Peter couldn’t be bothered to even try and tune in, so he slouches back down and focuses back on his homework.  _

_ “...and superheroes are even more sensitive to this theory.”  _

_ Curse his hearing for deciding to choose this exact moment to bring the TV in, but now Peter’s interest is piqued.  _

_ The man looks middle aged, with silver slicked hair on the top of his head. Of course, he’s dressed formally but not too formally with a purple button up and slacks. It sort of reminded Peter of Dr. Banner. “So then would you say our resident heroes are suffering from some sort of slow mental illness that will… “drive them to insanity.” The woman asks, coiled hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her face shows her skepticism but much like Peter, she’s intrigued.  _

_ “Not exactly,” Dr Aaron answers on the TV. “Take the famed Captain America for example. The man has been to war, and survived decades in the ice, to come out to this new era and everything is different. But immediately after that, he can’t sit to process and adjust his defenses to this new “attack”. He immediately goes to fight against Loki, the god of mischief.” _

_ Peter sits back in the chair a bit. He hadn’t even stopped to think about how Steve would feel about everything that’s happened in the past few years. He’s suffered a great bunch and Peter fought against him in Germany. But did that make Steve right? To fight against everything he once knew, and eventually the people he grew to know over the years. Everything to come crashing down.  _

_ “Mental battles are worse than physical battles, because the very same army that defends you, will turn around to fight you too. What will your defense be? _ ” 

_ Peter knew the risks of being Spiderman. Seeing things that weren’t meant to be seen, helping others, developing PTSD in Mr. Stark’s situation, a price to pay. But Peter knew the doctor was probably just repeating what he had seen in some book. It sounded repetitive, cryptic, and Peter tried to focus back on his work.  _

_ “One incident is enough to plant the seed and start the load road across the short line _ .”  _ The man on the TV turns to look at the camera, blue eyes morphing into brown.  _

_ “Where is your defense, Peter?” _

Peter jolts awake, immediately regretting doing so because of a crick in his neck. A moment of confusion overtakes him before he realizes that he was in the park, awkwardly slouched over on a bench. Another black out then. 

It’s a bit concerning that they're getting too frequent for Peter’s liking, and he can’t even tell what’s real or not - what are memories and the now.

With reality being blended together with his memories and everything around him becoming numb every once in a while, Peter can’t help his paranoia and anxiety spiking. 

He shouldn’t have come to the park. He originally came for fresh air but what if someone knew? What if they suspected him of even slightly being Spiderman? It feels as if a million eyes are watching his back at the moment, and Peter can’t take the pressure. 

_ “Who’s going to defend you?”  _

A hand lands on Peter’s shoulder, causing the boy to shriek and jump from the bench. His hand flies to web up the stranger, but except he doesn’t have his web shooters - Peter was completely defenseless. 

“Whoa, there! Calm down, buddy. You alright?” The man asks, concern written all over his face. 

Peter blinks in confusion, looking down at his trembling hands and swiftly places them in his jacket pockets. “Yep- yeah, I’m- I’m great. I-” Peter has to physically shut his mouth and inhale a shaky breath that burns his lungs. 

“Do you need to sit do-”

“No!” Peter yells, even feeling lightheaded with the pounding of his heart loud in his ears, he couldn’t stay in the park. 

“I’m calling an ambulance.” The man says pulling out his phone with one hand still on Peter’s shoulder. It was a heavy weight that sent Peter’s skin crawling, but he doesn’t push it off. “You’re obviously not okay.”

“Sir, I’m-” Peter wills himself to physically calm down. “I’m fine. I swear there’s no need to call 911. You just...startled me.” Even though it’s bullshit, Peter has to tell himself that in order to fully reassure his inner thoughts. 

The man looks skeptical but lowers his phone hand a bit. “Sleeping in a park, broad daylight, and you look...not the best. Buddy, if you’re on something…”

Peter shakes his head. “No, I don’t do drugs. I’m just adjusting to everything after being brought back.” And with that, it seems to make a bit more sense in the man’s head as he puts his phone back into his pocket. Peter calms down remarkably, and is pretty glad that the park is semi empty with people scattered out so much that no attention was drawn to them. He didn’t need to explain anything to paramedics. 

“Sit down still, I’d feel better if you did.” The man suggests, eyeing Peter with suspicion and something else. The spider mutant figures he has no choice, slowly placing himself back down on the bench. His heart rate has considerably lowered, only leaving him in a confused panicky state. 

There’s silence between the two, with Peter feeling the need to flee heightening with every passing moment. He’s unsure of whatever happened earlier, but Peter probably needed to research it when he got the chance. He needed to write it down. 

Looking around, Peter notices that his notebook isn’t on the bench. His bag was right by his feet, but he couldn’t see the small leather notebook. 

“Looking for something?” The man asks, causing Peter to look up at him in shock. The teen had semi forgotten that he was there. “The notebook you had is in your bag. It fell open during your...I assume  _ nap. _ Kid, you should be at home for that. New York isn’t the place to sleep openly.” 

Peter knew that. He’s only ever lived in Queens. But he had nowhere else to go. He needed to get out, at least. “Yeah, I know.” He kind of hopes the man would move along, no matter his intentions, but the man isn’t moved. 

“You sure you’re not on something…?”

“No!” Peter snaps, before physically having to snap his mouth shut. There was no way he could keep up these outbursts and his facade at the time, and he wills himself to let go of the anger quickly building up in him. “Sir, please, I understand your concern but I just...wanna be alone right now. Please?” 

The dirty blond presses his lips together in thought, seeming to mull it over in his head before nodding slowly. “Alright then. But if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m a pretty good listener.” He rummages in his pocket for something, before pulling out a single white card and handing it to the teen. 

Steven “Skip” Wescott. And a phone number. 

Peter clutches the card uselessly, he didn’t even have a phone, looking at it with a lost look in his eye before looking back up at the smiling man. “I hope to hear from you.”

“But why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me? You don’t even know me.” Peter says as if that much were obvious, but Steven (and that’s weird. He has the same name as Mr. Rogers.) Wescott only smiles wider as if Peter sounded like a child in disbelief. 

“I lost loved ones in the snap, and I understand how it changed them. Over the span of five years, I decided to pick up therapy and just be there for whoever needs it. You can do whatever with the card. Keep it, burn it, throw it away...but I’ll always be here if you need it.” The man gives a small smile to Peter, who mirrors it but a little less...genuine.

After an awkward hot second, Skip turns and walks away just as Peter feels a chill run down his spine. He never did usually ignore his gut instinct, and went to immediately toss the card in the trash… But what if he did need someone to talk to? There were plenty around him, but he couldn’t do that to them. He needed...he needed a stranger who didn’t know his life. 

Peter didn’t know what he needed. 

  
  


When he arrives home after just wandering around New York, May yells at him. Actually yells at him. She had lectured him for leaving without a way for her to contact him and practically made Peter feel like shit. Maybe he was looking into it too much but he didn’t know. 

Then when she asked if he had a phone, both the realization dawned on the Parkers’ face, with one dialing Happy’s number and the other scrambling and just begging for her to  _ stop _ .

And now Peter was sulking in his office room, curled into a corner just to feel some sort of protection. He felt open, vulnerable in the world - stripped away of everything. Was there even anything left?

The teen stands and begins pacing. 

He did not want to receive a phone from May, because all she’s done for him already was enough. He could- he would work himself up to that point to a cheap phone but he didn’t need it. 

A knock scares him out of his thoughts, causing Peter to jump and look at the door in alarm. May stands there, eyes wide as if him jumping had scared her as well. 

“Pete?”   
  


“What-” He clears his throat, attempting to clear his throat when his voice cracks. “Um, yes?”

“Happy said he’d take you by the phone store tomorrow unless you just want a Stark phone?” May says, watching Peter with that look he just knows is searching him for bodily clues. And while the teen was just itching for something, he couldn’t outright say no. The silence causes May to press the phone against her chest, lowering her voice. “I think it’d be good for you to talk to him and just get out  _ supervised _ . You were out for way too long and I didn’t know what had hap-” 

“I got it, May! I heard you the first time.” Peter says in a fit of rage, trying to control the surge of pure… rage he got. He didn’t even know where it came from. He and May have a stare down, with her eyes flicking down to Peter’s clenched fists once before bringing the phone back up to her ear. 

“He’ll go with you tomorrow so you can take him out to get whatever he needs.” May says too calmly for Peter’s liking while maintaining eyecontact with her nephew. “Probably in the morning, yep.” 

She turns and walks out the room, but Peter can’t help but walk forward after her. “You can’t just- send me away because I’m such a burden on you!” He accuses, not even hearing himself over the loud ringing in his ears. 

But May doesn’t even flinch at that, leaning away from the teen. “Yeah, he’ll be ready.”

“No, the hell I won’t!”

“Bye, love you.” With that, May hangs up and walks past the enraged spider mutant, who is on the verge of just screaming. “He’ll be here around eight am. Sounds good?”

“Why are you even trying?” Peter hisses out bitterly. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“I’m not looking for a fight, Pete.”

“Okay, so why can’t you let me do things on my own?!”

“Your thinking is impaired, clearly. You’re not yourself.”

“Yeah because I’m meant to be  _ dead! _ ” Peter snaps, voice raising to the point where it cracks on his own. A fire burns hot in his chest, to the point where it’s hard to breathe. He didn’t understand why he had to yell at May, he didn’t understand why he was so angry and just...out of control. May doesn’t react to that either, but somehow, Peter feels the guilt taking over his fire-fueled rage. Just looking at her blank face melt into one of hurt, made him calmer. 

Peter was meant to be dead. So why wasn’t he?

Because the Avengers fought to bring back all the Snapped. 

And the one father figure he had still living, is on the brink of death. 

“Peter?” May asks timidly, not even looking him in the eye. 

The mentioned boy looks up, not even noticing his gaze had dropped to the ground. He didn’t know what he wanted her to say but just...anything.

The older woman takes in a shaky sigh, dropping her head. “Please...just go to your room.”

Both of them stand there for a good hot second with the air dropping from a tense to a somber one fast. Peter hears May whisper a small “please” which definitely gets him moving, backing up before turning to head right back to the office. 

And the emotional drain is tiring. Tiring to the point where he flops on the cot, but can’t bring himself to be any tired to just...sleep. Sleep and feel at peace - something he hasn’t experienced at all since coming back. Every day was an emotional rollercoaster.

Peter lays there for he doesn’t know how long. He can’t use his super hearing to see where May is or even guess what she’s doing but he can faintly hear her heartbeat, slow and steady, a constant reminder of what he’s done. 

He didn’t know why he was so adamant on not seeing Happy or anyone related to Tony Stark. He just...couldn’t. But it looked like he had no choice either way. Control was slipping through his fingers for the worst. 

Laying on the cot brought no comfort at all and yet he had no energy to move. The boy could tell this was going to be another night of no sleep, riddled with intrusive thoughts and agony. 

But he couldn’t take it. Hours and hours to himself and thoughts, cold and miserable. 

Peter has to tell himself over and over that it was fine. He could handle it. He was a teenager, not a baby. He’s handled fighting Captain America, the Vulture, Thanos.

Big and towering Thanos. Standing over him. That predatory, condescending grin on his face that told Peter “I am your god here to take your life”. And yet he was so close to getting the gauntlet off. Would that have helped? Would that had changed the outcome of the battle? If he had just done something different or at least taken off a stone. Webbed it away. 

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“You’re a strong one.”

Peter sits up, looking around the room in panic. He had heard a deep voice, but it couldn’t have been just an auditory illusion. It was too real. 

“You’re a brave boy, Peter.” 

The teen has to physically grip the sheets to stop his trembling hands. He didn’t know where the voice was coming from, or even where it  _ was  _ from. It couldn’t be Thanos, Thanos was gone. Right? Thanos wasn’t here. 

Peter tries to call for May, but a hand comes around his mouth and pushes him back down onto the cot. And when he tries to see his attacker, the pillow comes down onto his face with another hand coming down onto his throat. 

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. 

He tries to scream for help, tries to gain his senses and fight the attacker off. Damnit, he was Spiderman!

And yet with each passing second of Peter’s beating heart, he felt weak. He felt dizzy and cold and sluggish. 

Oh god, he truly was going to die. 

The pressure in his chest ached, like bugs biting and gnawing at his chest to get out. And it quickened. 

Until it stops. 

Peter sits up with a gasp of air, scrambling to get out of the cot and out of the room. 

“May! Aunt May!!” He yells, tripping over a box right next to the desk and landing hard on the floor. His arm blooms in a heat of sharp pain, but he tries to ignore it, rather uncoordinatedly struggling to get up. “ _ May!”  _ Peter calls again, colliding with the other wall as he nearly slides out of control before trying to reach her door. It felt like an eternity trying to run.

Her bedroom door opens in a second with May standing with a panicked look on her face. “Peter, wha-” She doesn’t even get to finish her sentence as the teen nearly throws himself at her, collapsing at the relief at seeing her. 

“May, there’s someone here, someone tried to strangle me. There’s someone in the office, I swear it, I can’t- May, there’s-” 

“Okay, okay, Peter, sh. Calm down. Deep breaths.” May tries to shush her nephew’s blubbering, placing her hands on his shoulders to ground him. 

“Please don’t let me die-”

“I’m not, Peter. It’s  _ okay _ .” 

Still, Peter is pushed into May’s room just as the older woman says to call the police to him, but he can’t  _ think.  _ It felt all too real. It couldn’t be a dream. He felt the pillow on his face. 

May grabs a bat and turns on a couple of lights, slowly approaching the office. Peter, unwilling to be alone, follows closely behind her, gripping her night shirt tightly. 

The two get to the door of the office, and May quickly flips on the switch, observing the room. There was no hiding spot for any attacker, and the window was still bolted shut. Not even the open closet held an ounce of ominous air. Just the overturned box with papers scattered everywhere, a slightly dented lamp on the floor from what Peter’s arm must’ve landed on and the pillow right where Peter’s head had been. 

Peter can feel the confusion roll of May in waves, but he’s no better. He swore to the highest power that it was  _ real.  _ He could feel it. It was too real to be a dream.

“Stay here.” May instructs, looking down the hallway and practically peeling Peter off of her to check the other places in the apartment. Peter slides down the wall, feeling the disbelief settle in right next to the paranoia and pure  _ fear.  _

His heartbeat did slow a bit but the adrenaline kept him wide awake when May came back, a concerned look upon her face as she came back. “I checked all the rooms, windows and doors. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Peter looks down, feeling horrible. Now she was going to think he was crazy. More crazy than he was, but straight to a hospital crazy. He couldn’t go there. 

“Pete…” May lowers herself to sit on the ground as well, laying the bat right next to her. “If there’s something more going on to this, you can tell me. You know that, right?” Peter does, but he doesn’t know what even was going on. “Hey, look at me.” The woman prompts softly, reaching forward to lift Peter’s chin slowly. “I love you, Peter Parker. I love you and I have never stopped loving you these past five years you’ve been gone. Please. I want to help you.” 

There’s a long stretch of silence between the two, until Peter forces himself to speak. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”   
  


“We’ll figure it out together.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

“I just want it to stop.”

“I know, baby.”

“Please help me,” Peter begs, which causes May to move forward and gather him into her arms. He wouldn’t cry, but he could sure feel the tears pressing his eyes, threatening to spill. “Can I- can I please sleep with you?” He doubt he’d be able to sleep, but he wanted to stay close. 

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get some sleep. You scared me pretty bad, Pete.” May chuckles, but even Peter can tell there’s an undertone of fear to it. Yeah, Peter scared himself too. May’s hand brushes over his hair, and she squeezes him lightly with her other arm. “How about a movie? A good, fluffy one.”   
  
“We’re not watching Strawberry Shortcake.” Peter half grumbles, as May laughs. It sounded genuine, foreign at the same time. 

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll let you decide but it has to be rated G. Cmon, spider baby, let’s just go relax.” 

Peter was too spooked to continue sleeping. But he did get to cuddle into May with her heartbeat a constant reminder that indeed she was here. And they did end up watching some Disney movies just to calm down. Nothing too dark but just...lighthearted.

Peter wouldn’t even think about the possibility he had PTSD. There was no way. He’s just shaken after Thanos. He just needed...something different. 

Something more.

But yet, why would he receive such a vivid dream? About being strangled nonetheless?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
